


Pastries and Melodies

by countingscarves



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: ? - Freeform, AU, Amazing, Angst, Cool, Cute, Ending Angst, Fanart, Favourite, Feels, Fic, Fluff, Fluffy, Gay, Gay Love, Hugs, Johnlock - Freeform, Kisses, Lerve, Love, M/M, Pastries, Sadness, Sexy, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock Singer, Squueeee, Yum, also more love, baking au, cuddles yeet, kiss, singing au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 04:08:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2493878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countingscarves/pseuds/countingscarves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is going to make a special surprise for John. But will he take the bait? Also, Sherlock doesn't know a secret about John. Guess what it is! Jk if I told you it wouldn't be a secret~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Start to Something

**Author's Note:**

> woooo here we go! First fic is go, people! First fic is go!  
> Don't fear, my children. Cutes and cuddles will come soon~

It started like any other day at 221B.  
John was seated quietly at the desk, hands flying away at his laptop's keyboard. Sherlock was curled up on the couch with his hands steepled under his chin. But there was an air of unnerving jitteriness, as if the stale breeze that wafted in from the window contained caffeine.

Sherlock inhaled sharply through his nose, and running a hand through his hair, he promptly got up and speed walked into the kitchen.

"What the hell are you doing?" Asked John, looking up from his laptop long enough to glare at Sherlock.

No reply. The detective rummaged through the cupboards, trying to look for something, although it wasn't clear what it was. It wasn't like him at all to be this active, especially when not on a case. This time it felt different. Frantic, even. Why would the great Sherlock Holmes have reason to be...frantic? Maybe it was because he had forgotten something? No, that couldn't have been it. He never forgot. John glanced back at his laptop. 

"One new case," John said with a hint of eagerness in his voice. He'd never admit it, but he was secretly encouraging Sherlock to take a case. It was the only interesting thing in their lives nowadays.

"Irrelevant," was the uttered answer from the curly-haired man. Irrelevant? Now that certainly was odd. Sherlock never turned down a case unless it didn't seem like a good enough cause, but this one was a double homicide; Sherlock's favourite. He'd probably ruffle his hair and yell, "Double homicide?? IT'S CHRISTMAS!" at the top of his lungs, although at the moment, the detective seemed focused on finding whatever it was he was searching for so desperately in the kitchen cabinets. 

"Irrelevant." Sherlock repeated. 

"Got that," John replied quickly, tapping away at his computer. "What are you looking for?"

"Salt."

"What?!"

"You heard me correctly, did you not?"

"Why...salt? You haven't prepared any food to put it on."

"It's not for food," Sherlock stated bluntly.

"Oh."

The truth was, he was looking for a piece of paper; a note to be precise. It was a note in which he asked John to be his date, since he couldn't deliver the lines himself. He was going to give John the note, then see what his response was. But the note had gotten hopelessly lost in the cupboards. Sherlock cursed, slammed the cupboard door, and curled up in his small armchair like a child. John closed his laptop and set it down on the table. 

"What's wrong?" He inquired gently, trying not to hurt Sherlock's feelings.

"Nuff'n." Was the muffled reply from Sherlock's mouth resting upon his own knee.

John chuckled. There was always something wrong, and he supposed that he was there to fix the thing gone wrong. "Come on, Sherlock. Maybe a case will lift your spirits. I found a double homiciiiide~" He said in a sing songy voice that John reserved exclusively for Pouty Sherlocks. But Sherlock only buried his head farther into his arms and legs. Suddenly, his head shot up. 

"John! Oh!.....OH! You're brilliant!" Sherlock shouted, standing up with a jolt. If Sherlock couldn't do it, then he could give him another gift instead. Sherlock ushered John towards the door. "I need milk. Can you go get some?" Sherlock asked, making a petty excuse to get John out of the house. 

John was stunned. "Sherlock...what's...? What's going on?? I'll get milk, but don't shove!" John opened the door. "Stop pushing!" Sherlock rolled his eyes and practically forced John down the stairs. When John was successfully out the door and heading to the shop, Sherlock smiled and started on his gift.


	2. Sherlock's Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WHOOOOOA 47 HITS ALREADY?! Wow, guys. Okay, so Sherlock is preparing a gift for John. But we don't know what it is yet. Read this chapter and find out!

Sherlock knew John liked his coffee black. That was one small detail John knew he knew. But that gave him an idea. What if Sherlock baked a cake and served it with John's favourite coffee? No note asking him on a date, but Sherlock was really hoping that John would get the message. 

Of course John didn't really need to go and get the milk. Sherlock already had some in the fridge, and that was the one place he knew John would never look. Usually there were heads and dismembered body parts hiding in the vegetable cooler, but today he had cleaned it out. Sherlock gathered all the ingredients and started to whisk them together in a mixing bowl, spurting flour on his clothes and face. The batter turned a poofy pastel peach. It was a lemon cake, he decided, grabbing a lemon and zesting the peel frantically into the bowl. John would have some questions to ask when he got home.

He preheated the oven. Quickly pouring the contents of the bowl into a glass pan, Sherlock rushed to grab some powdered sugar in the cupboard. The room was beginning to warm up. 150 celcius? That was good. When did I learn how to bake? Sherlock asked himself. Oh well. Maybe it's because I'm so good at chemistry. He popped the pan into the top rack of the oven. This cake was going to be good, he could feel it.

By the time John got back to the flat, Sherlock had prepared an afternoon snack for John, complete with coffee(black, of course), orange sections, some marmalade, and a slice of lemon cake. The tray on which he served it had a carnation resting upon it. He had plucked it from the vase Mrs Hudson had put out. John was banging at the door for Sherlock to let him in, so Sherlock practically raced downstairs, running his fingertips along the railing. He opened the door. John was standing with a jug of milk...and something else. What the hell? Was that a guitar? 

"Oh, sorry, John. I don't need the milk after all." Sherlock said with a pushed smile. John glared at him. Not good.

"Oh, forget it." Replied John, bringing the unneeded milk and the guitar(?!) upstairs. 

"Is that a guitar?" Asked Sherlock, inquisitive as to what John would need it for. 

"Yes," he stated shortly. "I picked it up from my old flat. I guess I needed it." 

Sherlock smiled a bit. "John...I have a....a gesture...of good will..for you." 

The look of shock on John's face made his eyes widen. "...what?" Sherlock brought him the tray of goodies he had prepared.

"Sherlock...are you okay?" 

"Yes. Why do you ask?" 

"You don't do these kinds of things, and especially not for me." John said, taking a bite of lemon cake. But as soon as the fork entered his mouth, his expression softened. "Where did you learn to bake like this? This is..amazing!" John exclaimed, eating up the cake till nothing remained but a few crumbs.

"Just whipped it up," Sherlock said. John sucked at an orange section, wondering where the hell Sherlock had gotten all this stuff. He probably had gone to the store when John was out. But he noticed something strange in Sherlock's eyes, almost as if...he was nervous. 

John opened his arms for a hug. Sherlock slipped into his grasp, feeling warm. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Sherlock's breath hitched in his throat. He could feel John's hands on his back, and he wished with all of his heart that it could last forever. "Thank you," John murmured. " That was delicious." Like you, Sherlock thought to himself.


	3. Singer In The Next Door Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock frantically tries to recreate the cake recipe, but to no end. Also, he can hear music from the next room. Before John can react, Sherlock asks an important question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW OMG WOW WOWIE WOW!! I can't even believe I now have 100+ views. I know that's probs not a big deal but it makes my day. Love you all.
> 
> \--CS

After he had cooked dinner and John was asleep that night, Sherlock tried to recreate the recipe for the lemon cake. Surely it contained some unknown drug that caused John to be so affectionate towards him. But after hours of baking and experimenting, Sherlock had gone through 5 cartons of eggs (he had to go to the shop, and the look the owner gave him was priceless), 3 jugs of milk, and 7 bags of flour, some of which was partially covering his face. He wiped the flour off of his brow and started to wash the dishes. 

All of the “imperfect” cakes were in the fridge. A few needed more lemon. A few needed less sugar. None of them compared to his first immaculate cake. Sherlock sighed as the soapy water made his hands wrinkle. He could smell jasmine and night air outside the kitchen window, and he could hear John’s soft snores filtering through the halls. It was a peaceful sound. Almost calming. Oh, how he wished he was in that bed next to him, hands wrapped around his waist, lips brushing his neck….. He shook it off. God, this was impossible. The kitchen clock read 4:26. Time to head to bed.

The next morning, Sherlock awoke to a strumming noise and a melody floating from the next room. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blearily wrapped himself in a sheet, throwing on his slippers. The detective’s ebony curls sat in a mess atop his head. Tentatively, Sherlock put an ear to his wall. He could definitely hear music, and a voice too, the ingratiating sound almost beckoning to him. He could make out some words: 

“Ohhhh, my man

he's a bit deranged,

with a passion for the odd 

and a love for the strange.

But if you asked me to leave him,

I would simply decline,

For I would stick with this man 

Till the end of the line~”

By the second verse, Sherlock was hooked. 

"He's a little bit different

and he stands out from the rest

but if you told me that

I couldn't care less.

Cause he's amazing and witty

mostly all of the time.

He's all for the reason

and none for the rhyme." 

A man? Sherlock thought. Could he have heard it wrong? He darted outside, into the hall, and burst into John’s room. John had his guitar on his lap, but as soon as Sherlock showed up in the doorway, he stopped. “Sherlock?” He inquired. “What are you doing in my room?”

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” Sherlock said with a sheer delight and question. He wanted to hear more of John’s singing. It wasn’t a want. It was a need. A pure and utter desire. John really did have the voice of an angel. 

“You sing like an angel,” Sherlock blurted. John’s face turned a lovely shade of crimson that would have made a ripe strawberry jealous. 

“Thank you,” he uttered.

Sherlock would never have been caught dead blushing, but his hands were shaking. "John?" He said shakily. "Do you want to go out on a...date?"


	4. The First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of many to come. Love you all!!
> 
> \--CS

What happened next was a blur. John put his guitar down, went up close to Sherlock (their noses almost touching), and asked, "How much of that song did you hear?" 

Sherlock was stunned. He hadn't a clue what to say. Shouldn't John be excited that the man he was singing about was asking him out on a date?  
"Uhhh...just a verse. Why do you want to know?" Sherlock muttered.

"I want to know whether you're faking or not." John replied promptly. 

Sherlock knew that John would find him guilty if he backed out of the invite, but he would probably hurt John more if he didn't tell him the truth. 

"I'm not faking," Sherlock said, voice almost cracking. "Why would I?" His voice regained a bit of confidence.

"To joke. Maybe it's an experiment," John said flatly, putting a thumb in his pocket. He hated being tricked, especially by the person he cared about most. He could feel Sherlock's soft breath upon his shoulder, the rise and fall of his chest. Sherlock moved closer.

"John," Sherlock whispered. "Was...was that song about me?" John looked flustered.   
"Of course it was," John stammered. "It was just a thing I was writing about---" He was cut off by Sherlock's lips. They were plump and perfect, and the musk of cologne from last night still hung in the air. John flushed red and put his hands around Sherlock's waist as the lips that were Sherlock's pressed against his softly. They broke away from the kiss simultaneously. 

Sherlock grinned. "Do you want to go on a date with me now that you know how good of a kisser I am?" He asked with a growling tone.

John breathed in slowly, shakily, as if it would hurt him. "Yes," he whispered. "My song...did you...?" 

Sherlock had known it was about him all along. But it was hard to think with the taste of John's lips still lingering in his mouth. He wanted it to happen again. "Yeah." He replied with a cross of his arms. "I know. I feel like 'a bit deranged' is accurate enough, don't you?" John blushed. "So. Do you want to date me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I have been a bit occupied with school so I'm sorry if this fic takes a while...


End file.
